


A Rolling Stone From Texas

by CBlue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Secondhand Lions Fusion, Canon Typical Violence Minus Blood?, Castiel and Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Jack Kline's Parents, Castiel is dead, Except Cas isn't actually here, Grumpy Old Men, If You've Seen the Movie It Makes Sense, M/M, Warnings of Lucifer fighting a child and mentions of domestic abuse, that also a tag hot damn yall, that's not until the end, thats an actual tag fyeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-25 20:27:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18171083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CBlue/pseuds/CBlue
Summary: Uncle Sam nodded. “Back when we were younger, we were part of the War of the River.” His uncle began, “I had just reached adulthood. We were young, and we wanted to see everything-” he paused in his words. He turned to meet Jack’s gaze, the first time his eyes had left his brother's form since they had entered the War Room, “you don’t want to hear about this boring stuff, do you?”Jack nodded enthusiastically. “Tell me about it.” He pleaded with his uncle. “You and Uncle Dean traveled? Where to? How did you get in the war?”“Woah.” Uncle Sam grinned as he held up a hand, “let me start from the beginning.”





	A Rolling Stone From Texas

Jack bounced in the seat of the old, worn car as his mother drove with determination. He kept his eyes to the road. The warnings signs exclaiming that they should turn back weighed heavy in Jack’s gut. He turned to face his mother with a tight expression.

“Mom, what are we doing here?” He asked in exasperation.

“I’ve already told you.” She reprimanded with a gentle smile. “I’m going off to college! And while I’m earning my degree, you’re going to be staying with your uncles!” His mother grinned as she reached over to squeeze his cheek.

He hardly reacted to the action, but his eyes tightened. “You don’t have any brothers.” He questioned with a raised eyebrow.

His mother scoffed, turning the noise into a tilted laugh. “Of course not!” She played with the pearls around her neck. “They’re your great uncles. Your grandmother’s brothers.”

Jack turned his gaze back to the road. The further they drove along the road, which in all honesty was more like a dirt path blazed by previous cars before them, the closer a small and rickety old house came into view. It was old, and clearly warn down. Though the closer they came, the more the house grew in feature and size. It almost resembled a bunker of some sort with how it looked to dip into the ground.

Jack’s eyes widened as he gave his mother a look that he hoped conveyed his surprise. “You want me to stay there?” He asked in a last act of desperation as they pulled closer.

“Oh, Jack Kline.” She reprimanded, and this time her smile was nowhere to be seen. Her eyes showed the tightness in her expression as she forced her voice to remain level. “It will be just like one of those adventure books you’re always reading!” She exclaimed, some of her excitement returning. “And besides, according to rumor, your uncles have a fortune hidden somewhere. Won’t that be fun?”

Jack’s expression soured from his earnest surprise. “So, you want me to stay with them because of their money?”

His mother scoffed. “No, I want you to spend time with your great uncles.” She shook her head. “The money is just an added bonus.”

With a tight lip, Jack turned his face to the bunker as his mother pulled the car into park. He could clearly see two older men sitting at what presumably was the porch as they approached. Jack watched as his mother got out first and then he followed.

He could have sworn he heard one of them mutter “did you call for one?” but he hadn’t any clue as to what the shorter one had meant. The shorter of the older men, who he assumed were his great uncles, had bowed legs and green eyes. His eyes looked almost dull, especially in comparison to the curious look of the taller one. The taller one had long hair that at one point had most likely been brown, but the long locks were pulled behind him with a simple hair tie. They looked at Jack and his mother appraisingly.

“Who are you?” The taller one asked, and Jack was surprised at the almost inquisitive tone from the older man.

“And what the hell do you want?” Came the voice of the shorter one. It was gruff, and Jack was only slightly taken aback by the comparison of his brother’s inquisitive tone to his own interrogative one.

Jack’s mother waved a gloved hand and smiled daintily. “Yoo-hoo!” She called out as she motioned for Jack to follow her closer to the two older men. “I’m Kelly!” Jack’s brow furrowed with worry as the two older men looked to each other in confusion. “I’m Jo’s daughter!” His mother explained further.

The two men looked to each other before speaking with their eyebrows. One raised one and the other made some sort of gesture with his own in response. It was peculiar and strange, but the brothers obviously knew each other well with how they silently communicated.

“Jo’s daughter.” The gruffer one repeated. “Alright, well, you’ve seen us.” He took one step toward Jack and his mother. “Now go away.” And with that, he swiftly turned on his heel and began to walk back toward the bunker’s entrance.

The taller brother smiled sympathetically at Jack and his mother. “Did you want to come in? Have something to drink?” He asked gently. “I’m sure it was a long drive.”

Jack’s mother began to walk behind the taller one as he lead them to the bunker. Jack’s mother turned to him and gave another one of those tight smiles that he could never quite read. “Why don’t you stay out here and play?” She gave him a pat on his cheek before following the older man into the bunker.

With slumped shoulders, Jack huffed and took a seat by the front door. He could hear their voices through even the thick door of the bunker. His frown hardened with each word that passed between his mother and great uncles.

“You want us to babysit your kid?” The gruff voice scoffed.

“Please, it will only be for a short while.” His mother pleaded.

“Kelly, listen, we’d love to be able to help, and you know how much your mother meant to us…” The taller man’s soft voice was faint behind the door. “But we’re two old men. How can we babysit him?”

“Didn’t you see him, Sam?” His voice was rough, loud, and easily heard through the thick door. “He doesn’t need a babysitter, he needs someone to teach him how to not be a friggin’ beanpole. He jumped at the mud on his boots!”

Which, Jack admittedly had when he first stepped out of his mother’s car, but he had only ever been raised by his mother. His father had left long before Jack had ever known him, and his mother struggled to raise him. She had had boyfriends here and there, but they never stayed and they never quite liked Jack.

“Exactly.” His mother pleaded again, and the desperation was clear in her voice. “He needs someone strong to help him! Who better than his great uncles to help teach him?”

Jack recoiled for a moment. Hearing his mother’s disappointment was almost as painful as the entire drive here had been. He couldn’t hear the rest of their words, and he didn’t really care to. His face hardened and before he knew it, his mother had stepped out of the door with a bright smile on her face.

She helped him get his suitcase out of the car. His mother kissed his cheek gently. “You’ll love it here.” She promised as she dusted off his shoulders. He ruefully shot back a look over his shoulders to his great uncles.

The taller one, Sam, had a tight smile on his face but his eyes were welcoming. The shorter of the two, and the one who Jack had deemed to be the older one, stood with his arms crossed over his chest and a hard gaze. Jack turned back to his mother and he couldn’t keep the worry from his face. “Why can’t I just go with you?” He whined.

His mother’s smile fell quickly into a harsh frown. “Jack Kline, you will stay here and you will like it.” She reprimanded with a whisper. “Besides, maybe you’ll find their hidden treasure.” She hinted again, and Jack nearly despaired at the treasure hunt his mother seemed obsessed with.

“Goodbye!” She kissed his forehead and moved to the driver’s side door. She waved at her uncles and hopped into the seat of her little, blue car. It wasn’t long before the only thing Jack could make out was the dust she had left behind. His chest tightened at the thought of being separated from his mother.

Slowly, as if waiting execution, Jack turned to face his uncles. They once again gave him an appraising look, though the older’s was far more judgemental. “Follow us. We’ll show you your room.” Uncle Sam had smiled carefully at Jack before gesturing for him to follow.

Jack followed the brothers dutifully through the bunker. The bunker was large, and its stairs lead down into a large main room that held a map of some foreign land. Jack’s eyes widened in awe at the severe amount of books that littered the main room.

“This is the War Room.” Uncle Sam explained as he lead the small party down the long flight of stairs. “Down to the left is the kitchen, and to the right is the library. If you-”

“There’s more books?” Jack cut his uncle off in surprise. Uncle Sam’s eyes widened before he shared another silent conversation with his brother.

“Yeah.” He answered eventually. “We can show you that tomorrow in the morning. You’ll want some rest for now.” Uncle Sam’s smile warmed, and this time it seemed more genuine and loose than it had outside. “Down the hall here are the rooms.”

Leading them down the hall, Uncle Sam explained where his own room and his brother’s - Dean - had been. It was a longer walk until Jack was met with a lone room at the end of the hall. He turned with wide eyes to his uncles as the darkened room lurked in the corner of his eye.

“You want me to stay in there?” Jack asked carefully as he turned his gaze fully to the brothers.

“Would you rather sleep in the gun range?” Uncle Dean asked with a huff of breath.

Jack’s eyes widened and he shook his head with vigor. Uncle Dean’s lips quirked into a smirk, and Jack’s stomach filled with dread at the sense of his newly found uncle’s humor. He turned to his Uncle Sam for support, and was only met with a half shrug.

“You’ll get used to it.” He promised before half turning to move back down the hall. His movements were paused by Uncle Dean’s words.

“Oh, and if we kick off in the middle of the night, you’re on your own.” Uncle Dean quipped and Uncle Sam’s eyes widened.

Uncle Sam sighed, “Dean-”

“No, Sammy, the boy has the right to know.” Uncle Dean held up his hands in defense. “He ought to know if he’s gotta make his own food and clean his own clothes.” His eyes twinkled with an odd mirth that Jack was sure he would have shared had the circumstances been different.

Jack gulped audibly before turning to his room. “I’m going to bed now.” He interrupted the pseudo-argument.

His uncles paused in their bickering and turned to him. Uncle Sam nodded. “Goodnight, Jack.” Uncle Dean gave a mumbled “g’night, kid” before turning down the hall with a huff. Uncle Sam hovered for a moment in the same way that left Jack still standing in the hall and not crossing the threshold of his new room.

“He’s not kidding.” Uncle Sam says after a moment. “We’re old, ya know?” His voice is far too gentle for the quickly turning night.

Jack nodded. “I can do it.”

Something flashed across his uncle’s face. Uncle Sam nodded and this time the soft smile that spread across his features was completely genuine. “Good.” He nodded. “Goodnight. Sleep well.” He bid Jack goodnight again before turning back down the hall.

Jack’s fingers clutched at his suitcase handle before he took in a shaky breath. Closing his eyes, Jack crossed the threshold to the old room with one long stride. Once he was standing in the room, he slowly peeled his eyes open. The room was simple, with only one bed. Half of it looked as if it had been used for storage. Jack wondered idly if they didn’t have a proper storage room.

He moved to the bed, setting down his suitcase. He mournfully opened it and only unpacked his worn toothbrush. He plucked out some of the dirt that had collected in its bristles before scrubbing at his teeth. Partially because it felt so dirty in the bunker, and partially from lack of anything else to do as he slowly changed into his pajamas.

It wasn’t until Jack went to place his suitcase under the bed that he noticed it. It being another suitcase and not some random box. His eyes widened as he pulled out the suitcase. It was worn, well worn, and much older than Jack’s own. The engraved initials on the lock caught his attention for a moment until he recognized it was a locked suitcase and he didn’t have the key.

Jack frowned as he pulled the suitcase up onto the bed. He looked it over again, hoping he could break it open. With no such luck, Jack sat on his heels and was eye level with the suitcase. The initials, CN, were elegant and reminded Jack of the suitcase his grandmother had. Undoubtedly, it must have been from the same era. The thought of it belonging to either of the brothers was dismissed as soon as he had read the initials.

Jack stood and leaned against one of the boxes, only for its lid to give way. Jack yelped in surprise as his hand fell through the cardboard box. Blinking, Jack grasped at what his hand had fallen into. Pulling his clenched hand out of the box, Jack looked in wonder at the small object in his hand. It was a journal. The journal was leather-back and blank. The pages were yellowed and torn in several places. The handwriting was almost illegible.

Something small fell out of one of the pages. Jack’s eyes widened as the sound of metal clinking against the floor drew his attention from the journal’s entries. Bending down to pick up whatever had fallen from the book’s pages, Jack’s mouth broke out into a grin as he discovered it was a key. Hopeful, he skid to his knees to face the suitcase again.

The key fit perfectly into the suitcase’s lock. Jack beamed as he opened it with a jerked motion. His eyes scanned rapidly over its contents as he took it all in. It looked more like some memoirs than it did someone’s personal suitcase. Jack’s brow raised as he curiously looked over some more journals and a picture frame. This journal’s words were far more legible, but the picture caught his attention the most.

Although the picture was in black and white, Jack could tell it was piercing blue eyes that stared back at him. Jack was made almost breathless by the intensity of the man’s stare. He put the frame down gently. It had been packed with such reverence, he could only assume “CN” meant something to one of the brothers.

He turned his attention to the journal. It was in a language he didn’t recognize. Frowning, Jack sat back on his heels once again. His head jerked when he thought he heard a clattering down the hall. Rushing to hide the suitcase in case his uncles reprimanded him for snooping, Jack nearly fell into his bed for the night, and the exhaustion from the day’s events quickly dragged him into slumber.

 

The morning came just as quickly as sleep had. Jack awoke to the smell of freshly cooked bacon. Following his nose, Jack discovered Uncle Dean finishing breakfast. He smiled softly before clearing his throat to alert Uncle Dean of his presence.

“Jesus!” Uncle Dean shouted as he spun on his heel, brandishing his spatula like a sword. “You have to give me a warning.” He grunted as he clutched at his chest. “Gonna give me a damn heart attack.” He mumbled the last part as he resumed cooking.

Jack frowned, looking sheepish as he moved further into the kitchen. “Sorry, Uncle Dean.”

Jack didn’t miss how his uncle’s head quirked at the title. It was most likely because his uncles had isolated themselves out here in Lebanon, Kansas. No one had spoken to them in years, and the only reason the family ever spoke about the two odd brothers was to discuss their possible fortune. It was awful, really. So far they had seemed like nice, albeit grumpy, people.

“Did you sleep well?” Uncle Sam asked as he approached the kitchen from behind Jack. Jack turned to smile gently at the younger uncle.

“I did, thank you.” Although he had nearly stayed up with fascination at his discovery of the suitcase, he felt it best to not disclose that quite yet. After a moment of silence as Uncle Dean finished breakfast, Jack spoke up again. “So, what do you guys do around here?”

Uncle Sam and Dean looked to each other as Uncle Dean moved to fill the three plates that Uncle Sam had set out. “Uh, what do you mean?” Uncle Dean asked, and Jack realized now that maybe his voice was just naturally gruffer than what was considered normal.

“Like, do you guys watch TV?” Jack prodded as he peered enthusiastically at his hot meal.

Uncle Sam and Dean looked at him blankly. “We ain’t got a TV.” Uncle Dean eventually answered as he took his own seat.

Jack’s eyes widened. Sure, the television wasn’t found in every American home, but surely if his uncles were sitting on a small fortune, they could afford the luxury? “You don’t have a television?!” He gaped.

His uncles both shook their heads in sync with one another. It was almost eerie how well they seemed to know each other, and one might assume they were twins had they not known that Dean was the older one by five years.

Jack chewed at his food carefully, enjoying the taste of it and appreciating his uncle’s apparent talent for cooking. “Do you have a phone?” He questioned as he shoveled more food into his mouth.

Uncle Sam huffed a laugh. “We don’t have one of those either.” His eyes sparkled with that same mirth that Uncle Dean had had the night before.

“You don’t have a phone?!” Jack had gaped, almost more offended at the lack of phone than he had been at the lack of television. “If you don’t have a phone, and you don’t have a television, then what do you two do out here?” He asked with genuine concern for his uncles and some measure curiosity.

Uncle Dean smirked. “Well, why don’t we show you?” He chewed his food thoroughly as he enjoyed his own meal. Jack perked up at the prospect of his mother being correct and perhaps he would find adventure here. He nodded at his uncles as he continued eating.

 

As it turned out, his uncles' definition of a pass time was to terrorize traveling salesmen. Jack could admit, to a certain degree, watching the salesmen flee in terror or tremble as they approached the Winchester brothers for a chunk of their rumored stash was amusing. Each time, salesmen would shiver and shake as they exited their fancy cars. According to their tense demeanors, it was well known how the Winchesters treated traveling salesmen.

As the day turned to dusk, one particular salesman rolled out of his car, waving a white flag.

Uncle Dean snickered around his beer bottle as he leaned over to his brother. “Looks like a returning customer.” He grabbed at the shotgun that rested against his chair. “Do you want this one, Samantha?”

Uncle Sam’s dry smile only further invoked a snicker from his older brother as he shook his head. “No, I took the last one. You can take this one.”

Jack looked up from sipping at his lemonade to his uncles before peering curiously at the salesman who still stood waving a small, white flag. “Why don’t you see what he’s selling?”

His uncles blinked at him. “What was that?” Uncle Dean leaned forward to listen to Jack’s words as he repeated them.

“Well,” He began carefully, “if you really have all that money, what’s the point in having it if you don’t spend it?”

Jack watched as his uncles conferred with one another in silent conversation. He could spot the moment Uncle Dean was swayed by the twinkle in his eye. He smiled as he stood. “Kid’s got a damn good point.” He pointed out as he made to walk toward the salesman.

His brother rolled his eyes, but followed dutifully. Jack stumbled as he quickly put down his drink and darted after the two older men. The salesman gave a relieved chuckle as he clapped his hands when all three of them stood in front of him.

“My, well,” He began before clearing his throat, “the pleasure is mine, Mr. and Mr. Winchester.” The salesman greeted. “Now, I know how you two men are men of impeccable taste, so I have scoured the world over for the perfect thing for you.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. He highly doubted this salesman had been the world over for whatever he was selling. And judging by Uncle Sam and Dean’s looks, they hadn’t believed him either. Uncle Sam cleared his throat.

“Why don’t you, uh, show us what you’ve got?” Uncle Sam asked carefully as he tried to investigate the cargo of the salesman.

It was attached and pulled by his own car. Actually, now that Jack took in the sight of it, the salesman’s car was a truck that was clearly hauling the cargo. It looked heavy if the large cloth the entire attachment was covered with was anything to go by. Jack wandered over to it, trying to peer under the cloth before the salesman had appeared at his side.

“See? Even this kid knows what sort of beauty lies under here.” The salesman grinned. “Now, Mr. and Mr. Winchester, please allow me to introduce,” the man pulled back the cloth with a flourish of his hands, “the Black Beauty of America!”

Jack gaped as underneath lied a beautiful car. Although Jack himself had never been one for cars, it was easy to tell the classic muscle car was enchanting. If the low whistle from behind him was any sort of judgement, Uncle Dean shared the sentiment. The salesman gave the top of the car a love tap.

“This right here is a four door, bench seat, ‘67 Chevy Impala.” The salesman grinned. “She’s top of the line.” His enthusiasm at having caught the Winchester brothers’ attention was evident. Jack himself was enthralled with his reflection in the shining, black metal of the car.

Uncle Dean stepped forward. His eyes shone with something foreign to Jack as his hands traced over the hood of the car. Uncle Sam looked at Uncle Dean with just as much curiosity as Jack did.

“How much?” Uncle Dean asked without any other precedent.

With wide eyes, Uncle Sam gaped at Uncle Dean. “Dean, are you serious?” He scoffed a laugh. “What the hell do you need a car for? You never leave!”

“Maybe I want to.” Uncle Dean snapped back without looking at his brother. “Besides, kid’s got a point. Why not buy something I want?” His eyes glazed over as he looked to the car with wonder. “And, boy, is she beautiful.”

The salesman’s grin was just as wide. Jack watched with fascination as his uncle bought the car, with Uncle Sam shaking his head with a fond smile. No doubt that salesman would be back believing he had won over the Winchesters, and perhaps he was right. Chuck - the salesman - bid them good luck and handed over the keys that Uncle Dean gently took.

And while Jack had only known his great uncle for two days, he was certain he had never looked at anything like that in his life.

 

Later that night, Jack wondered how close his uncles were to the gentleman in the picture. It would have to have been someone close to the family. Had it been family, the last initial would have been W as opposed to the scrolled N that labeled the suitcase.

Jack huffed a hot breath as he opened the suitcase again. Although he hadn’t made it to the library today, he was hoping tomorrow he might find something on whatever foreign language this journal was written in. For now, though, Jack carefully reached back for the original journal. Its worn pages felt odd against his fingertips, but Jack flipped the pages over with a level of tenderness to keep from ripping the pages further.

The journal was written by a man named John Winchester. He recounted his childhood and then his early adulthood years. The journal entries stopped when his then wife, Mary, had become pregnant with their first son - Dean. Jack blinked curiously as he continued skimming over the journal entries.

Apparently, John Winchester, Sam and Dean’s father, had bequeathed the journal to Dean in his early years. Scrawling that was even more illegible than the most worn pages met Jack’s wandering eyes. It wasn’t until Dean’s young adult years, where apparently he had taken Sam and explored some other country, that the pages were far too worn for Jack to make anything out.

Jack frowned harshly as his shoulders sagged. He had been hoping that Uncle Dean’s journal would have held some clue as to who the man was. The pages were obviously the most read if the inky thumbprints were any indication. Jack sighed as he replaced the objects in the suitcase before he froze at the sound of thudding down the hall.

This time, unlike the night before, Jack hid away the suitcase and made to the door. Opening it carefully, Jack peered down the empty hall. He could hear the noises growing farther and farther. He quietly padded down the hall to investigate. Taking the flashlight from his own suitcase, Jack crept down the dark hall.

His torchlight illuminated the walls of the empty hall. Where one might usually find picture frames like that of the suitcase, the hall of the bunker was exceedingly empty. It was bare in a way that left Jack feeling much colder than he should have as he stood at the end of the hall. Watching the scene before him carefully, Jack’s brow furrowed in confusion as he watched his uncle lean over the table that held the foreign map that had captured his attention on the first day.

“U-” just as Jack made to call for his uncle, a gentle hand rested on his shoulder and stole his words. Jack turned to see Uncle Sam standing beside him with a single finger resting to his lips.

“Shh.” Uncle Sam silenced Jack with the simple sound. “Don’t wake him up.” He insisted with a whisper.

Jack blinked as he repeated Uncle Sam’s words over in his head again. “Wake him up?” He echoed in the semi-empty bunker.

Uncle Sam nodded before gesturing with his head to one of the many seats scattered about the War Room. Once they were both seated, Uncle Sam turned his gaze to face Uncle Dean’s blank stare against the map. “He does this a lot. Sleepwalk.”

Jack nodded in understanding as he watched his uncle move around the table. Uncle Dean pointed at things and muttered, but Jack couldn’t understand him. Jack turned to his other uncle. “What does he dream about?”

His uncle’s eyes grew distant, and Jack wondered if wherever Uncle Sam left to maybe Uncle Dean was there also. “The war.” Uncle Sam said eventually.

“The war?” Jack breathed. While his mother had not been wrong so far about this visit being an adventure, she had also not been wrong in saying that Jack would enjoy them. Adventure stories, and stories in general, had always caught his attention. His mother reprimanded him for living in such stories, but he couldn’t help it.

Uncle Sam nodded. “Back when we were younger, we were part of the War of the River.” His uncle began, “I had just reached adulthood. We were young, and we wanted to see everything-” he paused in his words. He turned to meet Jack’s gaze, the first time his eyes had left his brother's form since they had entered the War Room, “you don’t want to hear about this boring stuff, do you?”

Jack nodded enthusiastically. “Tell me about it.” He pleaded with his uncle. “You and Uncle Dean traveled? Where to? How did you get in the war?”

“Woah.” Uncle Sam grinned as he held up a hand, “let me start from the beginning.”

His uncle began, and Jack felt the words dance behind his eyes as he envisioned the tale. Uncle Sam’s voice was as soothing as it was comforting. It sounded like what warm cocoa tasted like. It reminded Jack of the comfort of home and the love he had for his mother in their small kitchen as she made them hot drinks and they chatted away happily.

“I had just graduated college with a general education.” Uncle Sam began, “and Dean insisted that I should see the world before I sent myself away to law school.” He smirked. “Dean didn’t want me to be a stuffy lawyer anyway, but I indulged him. So, we both made our way to Europe.”

 

_A young Sam and Dean had just boarded off the boat that had taken them across the ocean. Dean beamed at his younger brother._

_“Can’t you feel it, Sammy?” He draped his arm over Sam’s shoulder. “The adventure? The exotic ladies?” His eyes wandered to a few passing brunettes who flushed at the attention from the handsome, young American._

_Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s Sam.” He corrected on instinct. “And I thought we were here to explore?”_

_Dean threw his head back with boisterous laughter. “It’s part of the exploration! Learning the food, the people.” He listed as they made their way to a local establishment. “I promise, Sammy, you’re gonna have the adventure of a lifetime, and you’ll never want to go back!”_

 

“But did you?” Jack interrupted Uncle Sam’s story. He watched his uncle blink the past from his eyes as he tried to focus on Jack.

“What was that?” Uncle Sam asked after a moment, keeping his voice down as Uncle Dean continued some sort of debate in the background as he slept.

Jack leaned further in the seat as he dragged it closer to his uncle. “Did you ever make it back?”

Uncle Sam scoffed a laugh. “I’m here now, aren’t I?” He shook his head. “Don’t get ahead of the story. I’m getting there.” He gently reprimanded.

“Okay.” Jack nodded. “Sorry.” He smiled sheepishly, though his eyes twinkled with that same mirth that must have been part of the Winchester bloodline.

His uncle’s brow grew heavy on his forehead. “Where was I?” He muttered under his breath as he tried to return to his story.

Jack’s eyes illuminated with his interest as he perked forward even further. “You and Uncle Dean were heading to a local establishment.”

 

_The young Sam and Dean had taken up lodging for the night at a small, local tavern. The music was rambunctious and the laughter was loud._

_“See? I told you!” Dean laughed as he sloshed his drink about. “The locals know how to party. Better than the tourist trap down the road.”_

_Sam cringed a bit at the obviously cheap booze that clung to his fingers as Dean toasted against his own drink, causing it to slosh about. “Sure, Dean.” Sam nodded. “And while we’re at it, why don’t we just constantly find the cheapest things to do?”_

_Dean scoffed as he shook his head. “You’ve got to make the money last, Sammy. How else are you supposed to make it to a fancy law school?” He winked at his brother as he took another sip of his drink._

_“Dean,” Sam spoke gently, “you know you aren’t losing me forever, right?” He watched as his brother pointedly averted his gaze._

_Clearing his own throat, the older brother forced a smile to his lips as he concealed the fall of it with another sip of his drink. “I know, Sammy.”_

_This time Sam did not correct his brother. Whatever else he was about to say died on his tongue as a beautiful brunette approached their table. Dean gave him a meaningful look as he waggled his eyebrow which earned the roll of Sam’s eyes._

_“What can we do for you?” Sam asked the stranger as he ignored his brother’s scoff._

_The stranger pursed her lips. “Well, it’s how I can help you.” She took the seat across from the Winchester brothers and grinned as she extended her hand. “I’m Ruby.”_

 

“Ruby?” Jack asked as he pulled away. Blinking the confusion out of his expression, Jack spared a glance to Uncle Dean who was now moving outside the bunker. “Wait, Uncle-!”

Uncle Sam rested his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “That’s the signal to sleep.” He patted the boy’s shoulder before standing and stretching his arms above his head. Jack could hear the joints pop from the movement.

Jack’s face fell as he stood next to his uncle. “But what about Ruby? And what happened in Europe?” He questioned rapidly. “How did you join the war?”

“Sammy? Jack?” Uncle Dean’s voice called from the entryway of the bunker. “What are you two doing up so late?”

With brows furrowed, Jack opened his mouth to speak but was again interrupted by Sam. “We were just getting some water. We’re going to bed now.” He reassured his brother.

Uncle Dean shook his head. “Good. Get to sleep, the both of you.” He grunted as he passed the two of them. Jack could hear him mutter about “damn idjits” as he passed.

Jack turned to face his other uncle again, and this time was met with a bitter sort of smile. “Well, maybe I’ll tell the rest of it to you later.” Uncle Sam promised as he guided Jack back towards his room. Once there, Jack stood in front of the door as if to block Sam’s view. He couldn’t quite remember in all of the excitement if he had replaced the suitcase.

Sam looked to him oddly, and he wondered if he had seen the suitcase over his shoulder. “Goodnight!” Jack shouted before retreating further into the room. Once the door was closed behind him, he sighed with relief. He hadn’t left the suitcase out.

Slowly making his way toward the bed, Jack tucked himself beneath the covers. An exotic world with temptatious smiles beckoned him to sleep. All the while, piercing blue eyes danced beneath his eyelids and drew him into a lullaby. He’d find out who the mysterious CN was.

 

Jack would not find out who the mysterious CN was until a week later. Salesmen had come and gone, each parting something with the Winchesters for a small sum. Jack was convinced they really had thousands stashed somewhere. Uncle Dean’s favorite would always be the Impala which he constantly worked on.

Jack would help him when his uncle allowed. Uncle Dean would curse when he pinched his fingers or something didn’t work quite how he hoped, but the Impala always made him smile in some way that Jack couldn’t quite recognize.

Sitting on the front porch, Jack pondered how to ask Uncle Sam for the rest of the story. He hadn’t been able to have a private moment with the younger uncle, and he felt as if Uncle Sam was weary to tell the story around Uncle Dean. It was old, and it really did feel like those mystery books that Jack loved.

Oh, how Jack loved the library. His mind wandered to a thousand different places as he sat on that porch. The library was filled with all sorts of books, but none pertaining to the strange language of CN’s journal. Sighing, Jack took another sip of his lemonade only to find it empty.

“Want a refill?” Uncle Sam called from next to him as he handed Jack another bottle.

Jack took the bottle with a grateful smile. “Thanks.” He nodded as he took another sip. He watched his uncle do the same with his own bottle before he spoke up again. “Uncle Sam?”

Uncle Sam raised an eyebrow at Jack but said nothing else. Eyebrows seemed to be their own language to the Winchesters and Jack was slowly learning it. The raised eyebrow was the only acknowledgement Jack needed.

“Can you finish the story?” He asked without further preamble. His eyes almost bulged out of his own head at the bluntness of his words.

Chuckling, Uncle Sam put down his bottle. “Well, where was I?”

“ _‘A dark haired beauty, all temptation and sultry smiles, wandered up to our table._ ’” Jack quoted his uncle’s narration word for word.

Uncle Sam was shocked for a moment before shaking his head. “You really do love stories, don’t you?” At Jack’s enthused nod, Uncle Sam continued. “Well, so Ruby came up to us. She promised to take us on a grand tour of the city - for a good price too.”

 

_The young Sam and Dean had shaken off the forced sleep as they rose from bunk beds. Sam looked out the small window of the ship in shock as the familiar country got farther and farther away._

_“I’ll get you home safe.” Dean promised._

 

“You were shanghaied?” Jack asked in wonder as his eyes widened.

Uncle Sam nodded with a grimace. “It turns out, Ruby was scouting for soldiers so she could sell them to the Foreign Legion. We fit the bill.”

 

_Countless of small battles built up for land and oil. Dean fought constantly and valiantly at Sam’s side. Whenever Sam had nearly bit the bullet, his older brother stood there riding atop a dark horse like a knight from old._

_Sam, of course, did his own fair share of fighting. Together the two quickly rose up in the ranks. Dean became a captain of his own brigade and Sam his right hand man. After this time had passed, the war eventually ended. Sam and Dean were released from their contracts._

_Sam left Egypt to head back to America. There he studied law and fell in love with a beautiful girl name Jessica Moore. Unfortunately, over time, the two of them grew apart and Sam was single once again. Still happy with his life and practice._

 

“But what about Uncle Dean?” Jack asked as he quirked his head. “If you came back to America, did he come with you? Where’d all that money come from?”

Uncle Sam huffed and gave him a peculiar look at the mention of the money. Jack was certain the Winchester brothers had had more than their fair share of questions about the money. But Jack’s curiosity was less about the money, and Uncle Sam seemed to know that.

“Well, Dean had a more… adventurous time after we separated.” Uncle Sam said quietly. “Just because the war was over, didn’t mean the fighting was done. He traveled as a hired sword, fighting off mercenaries and rescuing fair maidens.” Uncle Sam had a teasing gleam in his eye.

 

_Charging through the desert on a black horse, Dean had swung his sword quickly against the twisted sneers of the men dressed in black. Dean jumped off his horse as he spun around. His feet nearly danced with every swipe of his sword. It was almost enthralling._

_A group of young men and women who had been captured by the mercenaries to be traded and sold watched in awe. They had never seen anything like this angry American who fought like twenty-men._

_One of the women that Dean had freed was in service to a young man who was engaged to be married to a sheikh. The sheikh was a European who had bought his way into the title, but he is for later in the story. The young woman, Anna, told her master about this attractive, skilled swordsmen._

_The young man was enthralled by the tale of Dean alone. His blue eyes shone with something indescribable to the entourage as Anna enraptured them with Dean’s bravery in the face of his adversaries._

_“I must meet this man.” The man informed his entourage. Although the young man was bound to the house, even before he was wed to the sheikh, he swore that he would venture out and meet Dean._

_His beauty was known throughout the surrounding areas, and everyone knew of his engagement to the sheikh. So when he went out to discover Dean, he hid away his features and identity. Wrapping himself with a simple dark keffiyeh to cover his face, Castiel eventually met Dean as he rode his dark steed beside the beach._

 

“Castiel?” Jack whispered with reverence as he leaned toward Uncle Sam. He always seemed to do that as he fell enraptured into Uncle Sam’s words.

Uncle Sam nodded. “Yeah, the young man’s name was Castiel.” He turned away for a moment. “Dean called him Cas.”

Jack followed Uncle Sam’s gaze with his own. He watched as Uncle Dean affectionately worked on the Impala. It was difficult for the older man to crouch and stand so much as needed, but he made due with the joints and limbs he had. It was almost surreal to watch him work on the Black Beauty against the setting sun.

Biting at his cheek, Jack turned back to Uncle Sam. “So?” He prodded. “What happened after Uncle Dean met Cas?”

Uncle Sam inhaled sharply, as if the name punched him. Jack’s brow furrowed as he watched his uncle. Cas must have meant something special. Just as he thought it, his mind traveled back to the suitcase. CN. Castiel. The stranger with piercing blue eyes must have been Castiel.

 

_Dean had watched as a cloaked stranger approached. He had never seen someone ride as skillfully before. As he rode along the beach-side, Dean watched as the rider strode next to him. The rider’s pace was a clear challenge which Dean readily accepted._

_The two of them rode fiercely. Their horses kept neck and neck with one another as the riding tide roared in Dean’s ears. Dean kept his eyes locked firmly at the space in front of him. Only occasionally did he allow his gaze to fall to the hooded rider._

_Their eyes were so blue that they pierced Dean’s soul. He felt his horse begin to give way from exertion just as the mysterious rider’s own steed had. The horses fell, toppling their riders into the ocean. Dean flayed for a moment, splashing about for his sword that had fallen out of its sheath. Once he had a firm grasp on his sword, he turned with it prepared to thrust against the stranger._

_The stranger stood, his hood fallen from his face. His eyes were the same piercing blue as they had been as Dean rode beside him. Dean was left breathless by this mysterious beauty, though he had some suspicions about the rumors of a beautiful, blue-eyed man promised to some rich European._

_Castiel stood to his full height, taking slow steps toward Dean. Dean was even more beautiful than Anna had described. As the sun set behind them, glistening off the water around them, Cas and Dean kissed for the first time._

 

Jack’s eyes widened. His jaw gaped for a moment before he snapped it shut. “Uncle Dean-?” He cut his own words off as he looked to his uncle. His uncle’s eyes were closed off, and his expression tight like it had never been - even at the beginning of his stay.

Uncle Sam nodded slowly. “Cas and Dean fell in love instantly.” He explained. “So they lived happily.”

Jack sat quietly for a moment as he leaned back in his seat. He clasped his hands in front of himself. “What about the sheikh?” He asked after a moment.

Smirking, Uncle Sam leaned forward. “Ah, the sheikh-”

He was cut off by Uncle Dean approaching from the front. He wiped his hands of the oil with an old towel before using it to swipe at the sweat that had built on his forehead. He growled in frustration before snapping to Jack and Uncle Sam.

“We’re going out to eat.” He huffed before rushing inside.

Uncle Sam gaped at him. “Dean, we’ve got all that corn-”

“Shove it, Samantha! That damn car isn’t working and I need some meat.” He shouted back through the partially opened door.

Shrugging with a half smile, Uncle Sam gave Jack’s knee a pat. “Well, come on. Let’s go.” He jerked his head in gesture for Jack to follow. Jack sighed before standing to follow. He spared one last glance to the Impala resting in the distance.

The old car was in terrible shape before Uncle Sam and Dean had bought it. Truly, Chuck the salesman had no right selling them a car in such terrible shape. It was worn and hopefully at one point well loved. Clearly it belonged in a junkyard rather than being sold to esteemed, retired gentlemen. Jack snickered at the thought of his uncles labeled as ‘gentlemen’ or even 'retired'.

He turned back inside, following his uncles, as the car sat by itself. Its uncovered parts reflected the dying sun as it bled into the picture of the large front yard as if it had always been there.

 

As it turns out, a small diner labeled The Roadhouse had been Uncle Dean’s choice of food. Jack and his uncles sat at the bar stools as a middle aged man with a bright smile practically jumped when they took their seats.

“Sam! Dean!” He shouted brightly as he left a small group of teens to themselves to attend to the Winchesters. “You’re here! I haven’t seen you two in months!” He beamed.

Uncle Sam returned a small smile. “Hey, Garth. We just decided to stretch our legs for a bit.”

“Tired of damn corn.” Dean mumbled from the opposite side of Jack as he turned to face Garth. “Get me a beer, and the beefiest burger you’ve got.”

Garth nodded as he beamed at Uncle Dean. “Sure, Dean. Anything for you and the kid, Sam?” Garth raised an eyebrow, and Jack wondered idly if his identity had gotten around town yet. Undoubtedly, everyone would know about the sudden family in town to live with the rumored millionaires.

Uncle Sam nodded. “Give us the same thing.” At Garth’s wide eyes, Uncle Sam quickly remedied with an eye roll. “Lemonade for the kid.”

Garth gave a small salute as he turned to get their meal and drinks. Jack watched with wide eyed wonder at all the unusual crowd that had gathered in the Roadhouse. Truckers, Bikers, Teens, and Old Folk must have come from all over to eat and hang out at the Roadhouse. Jack had never hung out with other kids his age, partially due to constantly moving with his mother, but he wondered if he had been with other kids his age if they would have ever hung out at somewhere as cool as the Roadhouse.

Garth returned with their drinks, promising their meals would follow shortly. Uncle Dean was quick to snag his beer and pop the top of the bottle open as he chugged the cold liquid down. Uncle Sam made a face that Jack was sure he mirrored with his own cringe at Uncle Dean’s manners. Garth cleared his throat to refocus their attention.

“So, are the rumors true?” Garth asked as he leaned over the countertop. Jack was reminded of his mother speaking in a hushed tone about his uncles’ fortune. “This kid here’s Jo’s grandson?”

Uncle Dean was the one who nodded. After swallowing some of his beer, he grinned at Garth. “Yeah, this here’s Jack. He’s stayin’ with us for awhile.” He nodded before raising his beer toward Uncle Sam who clink it with his own bottle.

Garth chuckled as he looked to Jack. “Well, good luck. These two are good guys, but they sure do attract trouble.” Garth’s eyes widened as he looked over their shoulders. His demeanor deflated and his eyes narrowed. “Danggit, ya idjits.” He said lowly as he began to move around the counter.

For whatever reason, Uncle Dean rolled his eyes at the comment before turning to follow Garth’s destination. Where Garth was heading, and where the three of them were now looking, two teenagers. One laughed loudly as the other one of them slammed their palm into the jukebox that stood dutifully against the wall.

“Stupid thing doesn’t work.” The young boy, not too much older than Jack, huffed against the machine.

The redhead beside him laughed loudly as she threw her head back. “The machine is older than you, Kevin. What the hell did you expect?”

Although it seemed to be in good fun, they were creating quite the disturbance. Jack watched as Garth calmly asked them to settle down. His voice was too soft to hear from where Jack sat, but he could definitely hear the redhead’s response.

“Really?” She snorted a laugh. “How about you get a machine that works and then we’ll sit down?” Her eyes were almost playful, but just this side of mischief as she pushed a single hand against Garth’s chest. It wasn’t too hard, but enough that Uncle Dean turned to Uncle Sam.

“Sammy.” His voice sounded like a warning, but Jack was learning to read their eyebrows and his face read like he was asking for permission.

Uncle Sam looked to the teens and Garth, and then returned his gaze to Uncle Dean. His lip thinned in a line as he thought it over. “Just… don’t go too hard. For your sake.” He said finally.

Jack raised an eyebrow as he looked between the two. “What?” He asked as Uncle Dean stood and made his way to the teens. “Uncle Sam, what is he doing?”

Rolling his eyes and returning to his beer, Uncle Sam scoffed a laugh. “He’s just going to straighten ‘em out. That’s all.” He reassured with a smile as he sipped patiently.

Turning back to face the way his uncle had left, Jack’s eyes widened as he once again could not hear the words that invoked the redhead’s response. The redhead shoved at Uncle Dean. “Oh yeah? Make me, old man.” She taunted as she rested her hands against her hips. Her companion looked on with wide eyes to match Jack’s own.

Uncle Dean rolled his shoulders, and Jack feared that perhaps the teen’s shove had displaced something. Until Uncle Dean had rolled forward and grabbed the teen’s arm. He twisted it behind her back as her eyes widened. She cried out, but it was almost as if from shock more than pain.

Jack made to stand before Uncle Sam paused him. “He’s just holdin’ her still.” Slowly sitting down, Jack stopped his movements as he watched a third teen, one he hadn’t notice, approach from behind with a clenched fist. He swung his arm back and Jack nearly shouted.

Before he could shout, Uncle Dean spun back and caught the fist in his hand. Everyone save for Uncle Sam and Garth seemed to be shocked by this. Uncle Dean nearly threw the teen’s fist back as he bodily shoved at him. He turned his heated gaze to Kevin.

“You next?” He shouted at the teen as Kevin trembled before the wrath of this angry American who fought like twenty men.

Kevin shook his head. “N-no, sir!” He stuttered out.

His friend, the bulkier third one, stood back up and threw his arm across Uncle Dean’s neck with the intent to choke him. Jack watched as Garth cried out for everyone to calm down. This time, Uncle Sam allowed the movement for Jack to stand in worry. Uncle Sam looked on with a rather unimpressed expression painted across his features.

Just as Jack feared his uncle would be overwhelmed by the recovering redhead, Uncle Dean threw the teen over his shoulder. Jack’s eyes widened and not for the first time he could attach Uncle Sam’s stories to the man in front of him.

Uncle Dean stepped on the teen’s hand, crunching it beneath his boot. “You’re gonna respect Garth and this here establishment, understand boy?” He shouted at the squirming figure beneath him. “And you sure as hell gonna respect your elders.” He pointed his finger aggressively at the redhead.

“I’ve fought in wars on foreign shores, been to places men and women can only dream of,” His voice was powerful and it washed over the denizens of the Roadhouse. It reminded Jack of the same voice Uncle Sam had used for his stories. It was distant and old. “I have loved only one man,” he put more pressure on the teens fingers, “better than a flea like you could ever understand.”

The teen that laid on the ground nodded his head as he gritted his teeth. The redhead approached carefully as if Uncle Dean were an untamed lion rather than an old man. “Hey, Mister.” She said carefully. “We were just trying to have some fun.”

Kevin nodded vigorously as his eyes widened. “We’re sorry.”

Uncle Dean looked to the two of them, and then pointed with a jerking movement of his chin to Garth. Simultaneously, the two of them nearly threw themselves at Garth with apologies. Once they were finished, Uncle Dean looked to the teen underneath him.

“‘M sorry.” He mumbled through the pain before Uncle Dean released him. Uncle Dean bent over, reaching a hand out for the teen to take. Although the teen looked at Uncle Dean with unease, he took Uncle Dean’s hand with his uninjured one.

Turning to Garth, Uncle Dean nodded. “Put it on the tab. We’re gonna get some ice for him and take these kids home.”

Garth sighed, though his smile was easy to see. “Alright, Winchester.” He turned away as he began to walk back to the kitchens. “Always trouble.” He muttered as he went.

Jack stood, gaping in awe at his uncle. He turned to Uncle Sam to find that same mirth in his eyes. Uncle Sam chugged the last of his beer before standing and moving to the teens. “Come on, kids. Let’s get some ice on that.”

The teens, as Uncle Dean had correctly assumed, had their own car which he happily drove in place of the old pickup that had taken the Winchesters here.

Following the truck, Uncle Dean took the teens - as promised - to the bunker so they could ice the eldest teen’s hand. He cradled his right hand to his chest as he squinted against the fading sun. Uncle Dean quickly hopped out of the car, only to return moments later with a bag of ice.

“‘anks.” He mumbled as he placed the ice on his hand. Luckily, or perhaps with trained skill, Uncle Dean hadn’t broken anything. Although the hand swole red, all the bones were intact.

Uncle Dean looked to the teens that sat in the car. He glanced over at Uncle Sam and Jack before waving them back into the bunker. “Why don’t you guys and I have a lil’ chit chat?”

Jack’s brow furrowed as he turned to Uncle Sam. “What’s he doing?”

Uncle Sam sighed as he shook his head with a fond smile. “He’s giving them the ‘What It Takes to Be a Man’ speech.”

Quirking his head, Jack looked between his two uncles. “But… she’s a girl…?” He asked curiously as he looked to the redhead as she peered toward Uncle Dean.

With a quiet laugh, Uncle Sam turned to Jack. “It’s less ‘Be a Man’ and more ‘Be an Adult’.” He chuckles. “Our surrogate dad told it to us, and Dean’s had it prepared ever since.”

Jack nodded with understanding as he watched his uncle speak with the teens. What once started as unease on all of their parts turned into something that burned red like the setting sun. Uncle Dean shook each of their hands before they all stumbled into their car and left the property.

Shaking his head, Uncle Dean walked up to Uncle Sam and Jack. “Those kids will be fine now.” He nodded as he watched them leave the property. “They promised to come back with some parts for the car. Apparently, Benny works at the old scrapyard.”

Uncle Sam nodded with a soft smile. He had told Jack before that it was good to see Uncle Dean invested in something, even if it wasn’t the small garden he had begrudgingly began to help Jack and Uncle Sam with.

Uncle Dean gave Jack a pat on the shoulder. “Then when we get those parts, we can start really fixin’ her up.” He promised with a wink before he headed back inside the bunker.

Sharing a smile with his uncle, Jack followed Uncle Dean into his temporary home. He wondered if one day Uncle Dean would give him that speech. It seemed to invigorate Kevin, Benny, and the redhead named Charlie. It made Jack walk with his shoulders back and his chin held high just from the prospect of it. The Impala seemed to wave at him from a distance as the last of the sun reflected off of her.

 

The following days were filled with Jack either helping Uncle Sam with the newly growing garden, or helping Uncle Dean with the Impala. Jack hadn’t had the chance to ask Uncle Sam to tell him more of the story. He had assumed there was more. He still didn’t know what happened to the Sheikh. Uncle Dean had affectionately referred to the car as Baby. Uncle Sam snorted a laugh at that one.

“What’s so funny?” Uncle Dean scowled at his younger brother.

Uncle Sam shook his head as he set out lemonade for the three of them. He insisted they all drink lemonade when out working and not beer. “You always call your cars 'Baby'.”

Looking almost offended, Uncle Dean turned to Jack. He turned his gaze back to Uncle Sam with a roll of his eyes. “Baby is a term of endearment. It’s not her name.”

“Oh yeah?” Uncle Sam challenged. “Than what is her name?”

Uncle Dean’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Jack’s mind wandered to the picture that he had looked at each night before going to bed. While he had original thought his last thoughts before dreaming would be of his mother, it seemed Castiel had been his source of comfort before he was lulled to sleep.

“How about Cas?” Jack immediately regretted the words as they left his mouth. He watched as Uncle Dean’s eyes widened by a hair’s width, matching Uncle Sam’s.

“The hell did you say?” Uncle Dean’s voice was laced with something unfamiliar to Jack that left him unsure of what exactly he had said.

Trying to fix whatever he had broken, Jack stumbled over his words. “W-well, it’s a good name. For a car.” He remedied. Jack watched helplessly as Uncle Dean’s once readable features closed off in a cold reflection of his former self. It reminded Jack of when he first got here.

“Uncle Dean?” He called out as Uncle Dean slammed the front door behind him as he stormed into the bunker. Jack flinched at the sound before turning to Uncle Sam.

Uncle Sam looked sullen and grief stricken. Jack wondered if Uncle Sam had been close to Cas. Along with every thought that haunted him of where Cas was now. “Uncle Sam?” He asked softly.

Sighing, Uncle Sam shifted in his seat. “I better get close to the end of that story, shouldn’t I?” He nodded when Jack remained silent.

 

_Enraged by Castiel’s betrayal, the sheikh had sent countless of bounty hunters for Dean’s head. The price that hung over Dean’s life increased slowly day by day. Dean and Cas were skilled at evading the men and women that the sheikh had sent after them, but the knew they couldn’t run forever._

_Fearing what they would do should they ever catch Dean, Castiel turned himself over to the sheikh._

 

 _“_ What?!” Jack nearly shouted. “How could Castiel do that?” His eyes burned with a rage previously unknown to him. “Cas and Dean were in love!”

Uncle Sam’s expression tightened. “Jack.” He says softly.

“No!” He shouted as he stood, stomping his foot. “Cas isn’t supposed to go with the sheikh. You’re telling it wrong!” His frustration had the better of him as he nearly shouted, though fear of alerting Uncle Dean kept his voice tight and cracking.

With a tight expression, Uncle Sam stood. He placed a gentle hand, far too warm and reassuring in the face of Jack’s temperament, on Jack’s shoulder. “Jack, maybe you aren’t ready to hear the rest of this.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “What?” He breathed out softly. “No! Uncle Sam!” He pleaded as he grasped at his uncle’s shirt. “What happened with Cas? And the sheikh?”

Chewing at his bottom lip, Uncle Sam looked to the bunker door before he turned back to Jack. Although this story had started from Uncle Dean’s sleepwalking, the rest of it never took place during those late hours. Those late hours were reserved for a peace and quiet that Jack had only ever received as they watched the sunset right before dinner.

These past few weeks with his uncles had meant everything. Just as the silent picture that was stored caringly under his borrowed pillow was. And this story was all a part of it. He hadn’t known how they had gotten their money, or what had happened to Cas, but he loved learning it. He loved experiencing it as Uncle Dean reenacted the same stories that Uncle Sam told.

Uncle Sam returned to his seat, gesturing for Jack to take his own. Jack did obediently as he waited anxiously for Uncle Sam to continue.

 

_Soon after Castiel had turned himself into the sheikh, a skilled bounty hunter had captured Dean Winchester. The sheikh was so pleased, that he loaded the bounty hunter with thrice his weight in gold. The large frame of the bounty hunter was covered with sacks of gold the same way that Dean was covered with heavy weighted chains of metal forcing his limbs tight against his body._

_The sheikh laughed maliciously as he gave a once over of Dean. “Not so well fighting now, are you?” He drawled as he stood from his seat. His English accent and pale skin set him apart from his hired help._

_Dean spat at the sheikh - Crowley -’s feet. “Eat dirt, asshat.”_

_Growling at Dean, the sheikh ordered a command in his servant’s native tongue. They bowed their head and dutifully obeyed. They stepped forward to lead Dean down to the dungeons. Suddenly, Dean stepped back into the bounty hunter’s space, extracting his sword from his sheath._

_He drew the sword as the chains that were in fact loosely draped around his arms fell to the floor. He raised his sword to the sheikh’s throat. Behind him, the bounty hunter retrieved the sword on his opposite side and placed it against the throat of the nearest guard._

 

“It was a trick!” Jack said with relief as he leaned back in his seat.

Uncle Sam’s eyes twinkled again. “Yeah, of course it was.” He winked. “Dean had asked me to come back to Egypt to help him, so of course I did.”

 

_Sam, garbed in the clothes typical to a bounty hunter and loaded with gold, struggled to keep his sword up as the gold weighed his arm. He looked to his brother._

_Dean sneered at Crowley as he pressed the blade deeper into his skin. The metal kissed at Crowley’s veins like a mistresses with just as much bite. “I’m only here for one thing.” He growled as he pushed Crowley to the ground._

_Crowley blinked up at him in shock before barking orders for his men to attack. Almost in sync to one another, Sam and Dean fought with years of precision and strength. Battling their way through the guard, Sam and Dean eventually made their way up to the highest room of the palace._

_Behind one of the silk curtains, a solid frame’s shadow displayed an ornate knife being held aloft. Castiel held the knife in shaking hands. Although he would sacrifice himself for Dean’s safety, he would not marry Crowley. As he made to plunge the knife into his chest, Dean rushed to him, drawing back the curtain and clenching his wrists with an iron grasp._

_Castiel fought against it only for a moment before he turned. When Dean’s green eyes met his own, Cas melted into his lover. Kissing him passionately, Dean held Cas as if he were worth more than anything that Sam was currently carrying._

_Clearing his throat with a smile, Sam gave a bow of his head. Cas returned the bow in kind before the three of them rushed to the window, and quickly made their way out of the palace. Escaping on horseback, they ran away with both the gold and Cas._

_The sheikh watched from the window, having just missed their escaping forms. He cursed Dean, and vowed to never stop looking for him. So the gold and the price on his head doubled, and Sam, Cas and Dean were the most wanted men in all of Egypt._

 

Jack’s bright smile dimmed as Uncle Sam’s voice paused. “But… what happened next?”

Uncle Sam shrugged. “Well, the sheikh kept sending men after us.” He said simply. “It wasn’t until Dean confronted him, alone, that he stopped.”

Light returning to his eyes, Jack straightened from where his shoulders had slumped. “And what happened then? Did Uncle Dean…” Jack’s words soured in his mouth. Although he had no doubt about the wickedness of Crowley, Jack was certain that his uncle would never actually kill someone.

“No,” Uncle Sam said softly, “Dean went to seek out the sheikh.”

 

_Dean had crept through the window, silently placing his sword against the sheikh's throat. The sheikh awoke, fearin lacing his eyes as the familiar steel bit at his bared skin once again._

_“Defend yourself.” Dean commanded as he peeled himself away from the sheikh. The sheikh stumbled off his bed toward one of his swords._

_In order to surprise Dean, he grabbed not only the sword by his bedside, but the decorative sword the was held on the wall as well. He turned to Dean wielding the two swords. He grinned with heated malice as he stepped threateningly forward toward Dean._

_Dean took a cautious step back before he righted his footing. Once he was ready, they began their dance. Their swords clashed and sang in the night of their dance. Although Crowley held two swords, Dean’s experience and skill gave him the natural upper hand. Once Dean had disarmed Crowley, the sheikh sank to his knees and pleaded for his life._

_Dean held his sword up to Crowley’s throat again. He lifted his enemy’s chin up with his blade. “Thrice I have held your life in my hands.” He spat at Crowley before he turned quickly on his heel and rushed for the balcony. He turned back to Crowley with a cold stare. “And thrice I have given it back to you. Stop looking for us, and you will never see me again.”_

_With that, Dean dove out of the balcony. The sheikh rushed to the side, watching Dean ride off into the night. He cradled his hand to his throat, swallowing audibly. He was so full of hatred for Dean, but also respect. He never went after Dean again, and the price on their heads vanished._

 

Jack nodded slowly as Uncle Sam ended the story. He quirked his head, speaking calmly as his nerves cooled down. “But what happened to him?” He asked carefully.

Uncle Sam gave another shrug, this one accompanied by an eyeroll. “Of course, Crowley found some oil on his land and became the third richest person in the world.” He scoffed. “He practically ruled Egypt with his fortune.”

Jack guffawed. “The bad guy gets filthy rich?!” He shook his head. “That’s not fair!”

Standing, Uncle Sam smiled bitterly. “Life isn’t fair, Jack.” He moved to open the door to the bunker.

“Wait,” Jack called out as he stood, “what happened to Castiel?”

Uncle Sam paused. He didn’t even look over his shoulder to Jack as he answered. “I’m not… you should ask Dean.” He said gently as he swallowed over the obvious lump in his throat.

Jack’s eyes widened. “You want me to ask Uncle Dean? But-”

“It’s…” Uncle Sam interrupted with his palm held up. “Jack, it’s his story to tell. Not mine.”

Jack watched as his uncle left him on the porch. Turning back to the Impala that he had started calling Cas in his head even before this whole ordeal, he felt ash burn in his mouth. Worry and dread coiled in his stomach. He would have to ask Uncle Dean what happened to Cas. He had to know.

 

He didn’t ask Uncle Dean, and he wouldn’t ask Uncle Dean until much, much later. The more nights that passed, every so often Uncle Sam inquiring if he had asked Uncle Dean about Cas, the more unwilling Jack was to ask after him. It was partially due to the answer he feared, but there was another reason that built up in his heart.

He didn’t want this to end. Sure, he missed his mother every waking minute, and had even tried calling her. The day he had found out that his mother wasn’t at the college she had promised him she would be at was the day he had given up on her. Uncle Sam and Dean had taken him out for milkshakes.

So instead of missing his absent mother, Jack helped Uncle Dean put the finishing touches on Cas. Uncle Dean accidentally let the name slip once, and they had all been calling the car that since. Jack helped Uncle Sam grow more than just the corn that one salesman had conned them into buying, and Chuck had even come back with some expensive mattresses that Uncle Dean had fallen in love with.

All around, Jack hadn’t wanted it to end, just like the story. Although he had always loved stories, he had always hated their endings. He hated it being over and having to return to his real world. Here, out in the middle of Lebanon, Kansas, there was no returning. He could almost live with his uncles forever.

And he had thought that up until some other distant family members had come searching for the same fortune his own mother had sent him here after.

They were the daughter and son-in-law of Ash, Jo’s cousin. Jo was Uncle Sam and Dean’s adopted sister when Bobby and Ellen Singer had taken them in. By all rights they weren’t even blood, but somehow were convinced they held claim to the supposed millions that the Winchesters had stashed.

Naomi, the mother of the small family, sneered at Jack. She raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “So Kelly just chucked you with her son?” She scoffed. “How like her.” Naomi leaned forward toward Uncle Sam and Dean as if it helped her to whisper. “If I were you, I would have given him away months ago.”

“It’s a good thing he’s with us and not you.” Dean grunted as he handed Jack another lemonade bottle as Naomi and her family sat without drinks for another half hour.

Fanning herself, Naomi huffed a heated breath. “Well, what’s that death trap out there?” She gestured to the Impala out in the distance. “You really need someone around here to help you clean up your yard.”

Uncle Dean bristled as Uncle Sam tried to calm him. “Listen, we’re doing alright by ourselves.” Uncle Sam stated gently.

“And we’ve got the kid.” Dean said gruffly. “We don’t need no other family.”

Jack beamed with pride. He hadn’t known that the brothers had considered him family until this moment. Certainly they had been endeared by him, and enjoyed him enough to keep him, but to hear it from Uncle Dean’s mouth that he was undoubtedly a Winchester was another feeling entirely.

As Naomi sat perched with her prettily dressed family, Benny, Charlie, and Kevin pulled up at that moment. The grease monkeys grinned and waved at Uncle Dean. Uncle Dean stood up and waved Jack to follow him. “See ya.” Uncle Dean dismissed Naomi and her family without another word.

Naomi gaped and Uncle Sam shrugged as Jack followed Uncle Dean closely behind. “What can I say? We’ve got it taken care of.”

As Jack and the teens began to help out Uncle Dean, their laughter was loud and their sweat beating on their brows from the heat. Jack smiled brightly as Uncle Dean showed him how to fix this part and that part. It wasn’t until Uncle Dean had flinched, clutching at his chest in pain, that Jack’s skin ran cold.

He and the teens watched as Uncle Dean fell to the ground beside Cas the Impala. Jack couldn’t hear his uncle’s shouts, or the yells of the teens. All he could here was the sound of Uncle Dean falling, and the ghosts of stories he had only heard and an ending he might never know.

 

Sitting in the hall of a hospital is not where Jack imagined himself when he woke up this morning. If you has asked him if he thought he would be here even a month ago he would have told you otherwise. Now he sat anxiously, the teens across from him as they talked to each other softly. Apparently, Uncle Dean had made an impression on the teens and they had admired him alot. Enough to stay in the hall with Jack and Uncle Sam.

Naomi’s family had been disgusted at the teens’ presence, and refused to be at the hospital if they were there. Uncle Sam had essentially told them to shove it, and let the teens follow in as family.

Jack stood quietly to take a sip of water from the fountain. As he leaned over, he heard a harsh whisper from his left. His eyes widened as he looked around.

“Psst!” The voice whispered again. This time Jack could track it back to an older man with a gruff demeanor. His dark skin spoke to many long days in the sun. His fairly groomed mustache was a defining feature. “You with that Winchester, kid?” He asked in a harsh whisper.

Jack nodded slowly and uncertain as he blinked curiously at the stranger.

“The name’s Rufus.” He introduced himself. “I’d be careful around those Winchester boys. You know that fortune they have hidden away?” When Jack nodded, he continued. “They got it from a bank robbery, but no one could tie it back to them.”

Jack’s eyes widened. He knew for certain that they hadn’t stolen the money. They had won it from the sheikh. The stranger must have been lying to him, right? Uncle Sam hadn’t lied to him so far. Jack slowly nodded again before turning away from Rufus and returning to his seat next to Uncle Sam.

“You never asked him, did you?” Uncle Sam asked softly.

Swallowing thickly, Jack sighed. “No. I didn’t.” He rasped.

Uncle Sam looked to the teens across from them and then to Uncle Dean’s door. “Maybe you should go in and ask.”

Jack looked to Uncle Sam with wide eyes. “But they said to-”

“Sometimes,” Uncle Sam cut him off, “you have to break the rules.”

Jack looked to his uncle careful. He took in a deep breath through his nose before he stood. The sound attracted the attention of the whispering teens. They looked to him with varying degrees of encouragement from Kevin’s nervous smile, to Charlie’s thumbs up, to Benny’s simple nod.

His feet were heavy as they carried him to Uncle Dean’s room, and his arms felt to weak to open the door even as he did. Coming into the room was a mistake. Watching his uncle lay there motionless on the bed almost made him lose his resolve completely.

“Jack?” Uncle Dean’s voice sounded like sandpaper, or a dry throat after a long day.

Jack nodded before remembering that Uncle Dean wasn’t looking at him. “Yeah, it’s me Uncle Dean.” He stepped forward to stand next to Uncle Dean’s bed.

Uncle Dean moved his hand so he could playfully punch at Jack’s shoulder. It made Jack smile and that seemed to be what his uncle was aiming for. Uncle Dean chuckled as much as his throat would allow.

“Sorry to scare you.” Uncle Dean said after a moment. “I… I’m not as young as I used to be.” He cleared his dry throat. “Sammy’s always going on about how I should eat better.” Uncle Dean looked away guiltily.

Jack inhaled sharply. “You should.” Uncle Dean seemed to be taken aback by the exclamation. “I need you to live long enough to give me the speech.”

Uncle Dean’s brow furrowed. “What speech? Jack, what the hell-”

“The What It Takes To Be A Man speech!” Jack nearly shouted, and that same temper that he had once taken against Uncle Sam flared. “I need to know it or else I can’t be a man!”

Uncle Dean scoffed a laugh. “You’re doin’ just fine, kid.”

Jack’s lip quivered. “No!” His voice cracked. “I need you to live long enough to tell me. Promise.”

“Kid, I can’t promise-” Uncle Dean argued with wide eyes.

“Promise!” Jack pleaded as he grasped at his uncle’s bed.

Nodding slowly, Uncle Dean took in a steadying breath. “Fine! Fine.” He huffed in faux aggravation, but Jack was good at reading Winchester eyebrows. “I’ll stay around long enough to give you the damn speech.” He promised.

Jack smiled brightly. It was a wet smile with soaking eyes and his heart felt brittle, but for the first time it didn’t feel like a weakness. Jack didn’t feel like his vulnerability was a bad thing. All of the things that he felt for his mother? It was here too, with his two uncles in a bunker in the middle of nowhere.

 

Jack had forgotten what he was going to originally ask. Although the promise he had received was by far superior to what the ending of a story that he dreaded could ever be, Jack still felt it eat away at him. The closer the Impala came to working condition, it felt like an hourglass. Jack felt as if he were the sand and he were being pulled through that small shape to count how many days left until his mother would eventually come for him.

He still heard rumors about how they had stolen the money. He had even gone as far as to follow Uncle Sam one night. He had seen their stash. It wasn’t gold like he had envisioned them stealing from the sheikh, but cash. Green faces littered the bottom of the barn and it clutched at Jack’s heart as doubt of his uncle’s stories whispered in his ears.

These whispers only became louder when his mother finally returned.

It had been many months with his uncles. The garden was flourishing and Cas the Impala was running. Uncle Dean was eating better and Uncle Sam smiled brighter at that. They taught Jack how to shoot and they showed him every crevice of the library. Although he had never transcribed Cas’ journal, the words felt too private now. Instead he had taken to looking at Castiel’s picture that he had set beside his bed. It was almost as if the memory of Cas, the pure essence of him from the picture, was a third uncle teaching him all of these things and taking care of him in his mother’s absence.

It was the dead of night when Jack heard a noise. He had thought it was Uncle Dean as he crept down the hall. Upon spotting neither of his uncles Jack turned to the bunker door. Curious and adventurous in a way he hadn’t been before Uncle Sam’s stories, Jack opened the front door slowly. A familiar car flashed its lights in his eyes. Jack blinked the light out of his face and almost sighed with relief when the lights dimmed.

“Jack?” He heard a voice call his name. He would recognize that voice from anywhere. His mother rushed out to embrace him. Clutching him to her chest, she let out a sob. “Oh! My baby is safe.”

Jack pulled back from her embrace. His eyes widened as he looked at her in disbelief. “Mom?” His voice nearly croaked.

His mother nodded as she dabbed at the corners of her wet eyes. “Yes, Jack.” She pulled him into another hug and kissed the top of his head. “I’ve got some news for you.” As she pulled back, Jack could see a man standing behind her.

The man was imposing and threatening in a way no one in the town of Lebanon, Kansas had been. Even with the bar fights and the heart attacks, Jack had never felt more uneased than he had in the presence of this man. He was dressed as some sort of mobster, if Jack had to make some comparison to his appearance. His suit jacket made him look broader and the brim of his hat hid his features. Jack’s mother looked between the two of them as if waiting for one or the other to speak.

“Is this another boyfriend?” Jack spoke up first. His mother’s jaw dropped and she hissed at him.

“Jack Kline!” She reprimanded. “This is not another boyfriend.” Turning back to the man, Jack’s mother stood to her full height and clasped her hands shyly behind her back as she ducked her head. “This is your daddy.”

Jack’s eyes widened as he looked back to the man - his father - and took in his appearance again. His smile put Jack on edge the same way he envisioned Uncle Dean had been when put up with Crowley’s smirk. Jack’s heart thundered in his chest in the way the horses’ hooves must have beat against the desert sand.

The man grinned as he strode forward. “Now is that anyway to introduce yourself to your daddy?” His voice slithered through the night air.

Swallowing thickly around the forming despair in his throat, Jack shook his head. “No, sir.” He said softly.

His father’s snake of a grin spread further across his face. It was jagged and gave his features an even rougher appearance. “Well, how’s ‘bout we go sit and talk some? All of us?” His father held out a hand to guide them to the porch.

It made Jack’s skin crawl to see such a stranger make himself familiar on his uncles’ porch. Even the salesmen after Chuck had known better than to make themselves too comfortable at the bunker. The teens that Uncle Sam and Dean had warmly welcomed into the home were in a much better position to make themselves as one of the family, rather than this serpent that Jack had never known.

Jack hated that too. He hated how his love for reptiles could slowly melt away in the face of this man.

 

_He had remembered the snake that sat in the bunker in the War Room. Uncle Sam and Dean thought they had purchased some feral beast so they could ‘hunt’ and mount on the bunker wall. Instead, a small snake had been sent._

_“What the hell are we supposed to do with this?” Uncle Dean grunted as he looked incredulously at the small snake._

_Uncle Sam shrugged helplessly. “We could send it back? Get a refund?” His brow furrowed on his forehead. “We paid for the price of a lion.”_

_Jack’s eyes widened and his grin spread like a flash of lightning across his face. “Can we keep him?” He asked with wonder as he stared down the snake and the snake stared back._

_Uncle Sam and Dean looked to each other with wide eyes. “Uh, kid-” Uncle Dean started._

_“I’ll take care of him!” Jack jumped to stand next to Uncle Dean. “I’ll feed him and clean him, and I’ll take care of him! Just like you take care of Cas!”_

_Jack watched as Uncle Sam’s eyes widened. He had forgotten that the car shared the same name of the lover whose fate he had yet to know. He thought he could spot the moment that Uncle Dean would shut down completely. Instead, Uncle Dean cleared the obvious lump in his throat._

_“He’s your responsibility.”_

 

Now, though, Jack could feel his love for general serpents declining. He still loved his nameless snake that awaited him back in the bunker. Jack could see his mother purse her lips.

“Jack,” she began softly, “Lucifer and I have come to take you home.” The word home fell hollowly at Jack’s feet. The house in which he lived with his mother was a far cry from home. But a large bunker in the middle of Lebanon, Kansas? Surrounded by a hodgepodge team of teens and two grumpy great uncles? That was something that settled much like home in Jack’s chest.

Jack shook his head. “What are you talking about?” His voice was cold to his mother in a way he would have never guessed it would have been had he been asked only months prior. “What happened to college?”

His mother at least had the decency to look guilty as she turned away. “It didn’t work out.” To steal a phrase from his uncle, she was lying through her teeth. “But then I ran into Lucifer.” She smiled and blushed at him as he returned the smile with something twisted. His mother didn’t seem to notice though.

“So you came here?” Jack questioned as he looked between the two of them.

His mother opened her mouth to speak, but his father interrupted. “We came to tell you the truth about your uncles.” He said sharply. “It’s about all that money they’ve got.”

Jack recoiled from his father’s words. “Their money?” He raised an eyebrow in an eerily similar way to his uncles as he turned to his mother. “You wanted to know about their money?”

“Jack, honey,” she began, “we already know about their money.” She brushed some of Jack’s loose strands of hair out of his face.

Just as Jack was about to question further, his father continued. “All that money is stolen. All of it.”

The words that some of the townsfolk had whispered as his uncles’ backs were turned rushed through Jack’s ears. “What.” He let out in a breath that released like a punch to the gut.

His mother nodded. “Yes.” She began to cry again. “I’m so sorry, honey! I never would have left you with them had I known!” She promised as she held on to him again.

“She’s right.” Jack’s father continued. “Your uncles’ are notorious thieves that stole from a National Bank.” He leaned forward, playing with his hat between his hands that he had taken off somewhere during the conversation. “All that money? It doesn’t belong to them.”

“Your father is a private investigator.” His mother explained. “He knows all about the two of them.” Biting at her lip, Jack’s mother turned Jack to face her. “So now we’re gonna find that money and we’re gonna get out of here.”

Jack blenched from his mother’s touch. “You want their money?”

“Well, it isn’t theirs.” His father quipped back. “Might as well be ours since the state isn’t looking for it anymore.”

Shaking his head, Jack looked to his hands. “But… they didn’t steal that money.” He looked to his mother and father. “What about Cas?” Jack asked helplessly.

His mother’s demeanor shifted. “Oh, wasn’t that the name of the getaway driver?”

“Oh yeah,” his father nodded as he continued for Jack’s mother, “they left her to die.”

Jack’s eyes widened for a moment before he looked to his father. “What did you say?”

His father blinked. He gave one look to his mother before turning his gaze back to Jack. “I said they left her to die. She got shot, and the two of them just let her.” He tried to add sorrow to his voice, but Jack could see it now.

He turned to his mother with a grin. “They never stole anything!” Jack proclaimed. “Cas wasn’t a girl! He was a guy! And they won all the money from a sheikh in Egypt!” Gripping at his mother’s hands, Jack beamed at the revelation.

His mother’s disappointment was clear on her face. It didn’t take months to learn reading like it had with the Winchester’s eyebrows. This was something clear that bore into Jack’s soul. Jack frowned, pulling his hands away from her’s as she spoke.

“Jack Kline, enough of that foolish malarky.” She reprimanded. “Your daddy knows what he’s talking about, and they’ve been lying to you.”

“But they-” Jack made to argue but was cut off by the man that he was loathe to call father.

His breath billowed out like smoke and for the first time Jack thought of him as a wyvern as opposed to a snake. His body almost slithered forward as his serpentine tongue lashed out. “Why don’t you and I take a walk? Talk man to man?” He stood as he raised his own eyebrow, just as imposing as the rest of his features.

At his mother’s encouragement, Jack reluctantly stood. He followed his father out in the distance, toward the barn in fact. The barn wasn’t used for much, save for storage of Cas the Impala. Small tools hung on the walls and some of Uncle Sam’s gardening tools were scattered about, but most remained in their corner.

Jack was dragged by his arm as soon as they entered the shadow of the night, away from the porchlight. His father turned on him. “Listen, kid.” Jack shuttered at the familiar moniker. He continued, “I need that money. I’m in some deep shit and I’ve got to pay some bad people back.” His breath hissed against Jack’s face. “So why don’t you show me where the money is, and no one has to get hurt?”

The threat in his voice and words jolted through Jack in a way that he felt reminisced Uncle Dean’s quick strides in his sleep. He felt every nerve ending come alive in a fight or flight reflex. The man who was his father huffed against his face, telling him to roll over. His mind wandered back to the bar fight, to the salesmen, and to all of the other things he had experienced and grow with as he had been here.

Jack had learned so much. His uncles had taught him so many things he hadn’t even known existed. It was more than factual knowledge, but an instinct and a love that he had not known since his mother’s second boyfriend. He learned how to research, how to fix cars, and how to stand up for himself. At that, his mind didn’t travel to Uncle Sam in the garden and in the library; it stayed on Uncle Dean under Cas the Impala that Jack could see clearly over his father’s shoulder.

 

_Uncle Dean had apparently caught on to his sleepwalking and instead had taken to fixing the Impala in the late hours. Jack wandered out to meet him. It had been a long time since Uncle Sam and Jack had watched Uncle Dean as he dreamt of sword fights and desert sand, but Jack could remember every word with a degree of clarity._

_“Uncle Dean?” Jack asked softly one night as he approached his uncle. Uncle Dean was half buried underneath the body of the Impala._

_Wheeling himself out from under the metal frame, Uncle Dean raised an eyebrow at Jack. “Jack? What the hell are you doing up?” He stood, wiping his oiled hands on the seat of his jeans._

_Jack stood silently for a moment as he clutched the blanket around him. There was a nip in the air, and it made every hair on Jack’s body stand on end. “What happened to him?” He asked, voice as breathy as the wind outside the barn._

_Uncle Dean feigned confusion as his brow furrowed. “I don’t know what you’re-”_

_"What happened to Castiel?” Jack’s voice broke with a cry. “I have to know. I have to.”_

_Jack watched as for the first time Uncle Dean crumpled. His hero’s demeanor fell and what was left was a broken man. His eyes downcasted and his frame looked smaller. It made Jack feel minuscule in comparison._

_“He died.” Uncle Dean’s voice finally croak out, and Jack wouldn’t have heard it had he not been so intent on knowing what happened to the man in the picture. He watched as Uncle Dean’s heart shattered with every shard of word that was dragged from his throat. “He uh, he got real sick when we went to Europe.”_

_He hadn’t known when it happened, but Jack sunk to his knees in the dirt of the barn. In an instant, Uncle Dean was knelt in front of him and calling his name. Jack looked up to Uncle Dean. “B-but you were supposed to live happily ever after. That’s how stories end.”_

_Uncle Dean’s smile was bitter and it left Jack feeling almost as hollow of a husk as he was certain his uncle was in this moment. “Well, this ain’t a fairy tale kid. Life isn’t happy endings.”_

_Jack frowned, furrowing his brow. “No.” He shook his head. “Your story just isn’t over yet.” He held his chin high with conviction._

_Shaking his head, Uncle Dean began again, “Listen, kid-”_

_“No, Uncle Dean.” Jack spoke firmly. “I know you miss Castiel an awful, awful lot.” His voice cracked every other word, but his conviction never wavered. It was painted crystal clear on his face. “But if you go, Uncle Sam and I will miss you just as much.”_

_Jack’s watering eyes were reflected in Uncle Dean’s own. “Jack, I can’t be around forever.”_

_“I don’t want forever.” Jack cried out before Uncle Dean had even finished. “Just long enough for me to hear that speech. And to go to college. Twice.”_

_Uncle Dean’s eyes widened. “Now, listen, kid-”_

_“Please.” Jack whispered. “I need you.”_

_Something about his tone, or perhaps even the words themself, caught in Uncle Dean’s throat. Jack could spot every change in his expression from this close. Watching him carefully, Jack saw Uncle Dean slowly begin to shake his head._

_“I…” He began, “I usually save the whole speech for when it’s time, but I think there’s a part you need to hear.” Uncle Dean finally said._

_As they both knelt on the dirt of an old barn, Uncle Dean told Jack the most important words he had ever heard in his life. Perhaps the greatest wisdom that had ever been passed down, and most definitely one of the most important parts of the speech that he would receive in later years._

_“There comes a time in a man’s life - in all our lives,” Uncle Dean corrected as he remembered parting this speech to Charlie, “where we have to stand up for ourselves. We gotta take a stand for what we believe in. Right, wrong, or indifferent.” Uncle Dean’s words washed over Jack, cleansing him of his tears and the dread at missing the uncle he had never known. “And a strong person - a strong man - knows he’s stronger when he’s with family.” Chuckling at this last part, Uncle Dean gave him the words that would change him forever. “And family don’t end in blood.”_

 

Jack focused back to his father. The man’s brow furrowed so deeply that his flaming eyes were barely a candle against Jack’s face. Jack took in a steadying breath as he leveled his father with a glare to match the force that met him. Words that had been told to him all throughout these past months whispered encouragement and rallied in his chest.

“Defend yourself.” Jack whispered the words as he mimicked his uncle’s voice.

His father’s expression turned into one of confusion. “What?” He asked as his tone shifted from being taken off guard.

Jack kicked at his groin, sending him buckling as Jack darted off to the Impala. He rushed to grab the keys off of Uncle Dean’s workbench. It only took a moment for Jack to unlock the door and rip it open, but it was enough time for his father to stand to his feet.

As Jack turned on the ignition, his father reached into the car. “No!” Jack shouted against his father’s force as he tried to pull away, but his father’s size was greater. Lucifer dragged Jack out of the car.

“It’s time to teach you a lesson!” He growled as he threw Jack to the floor.

Unbeknownst to Lucifer, the previous owner of this land had no idea how to place his barn in relation to his bunker. He had built his barn on an incline. The barn rested dutifully atop the slope. And also unbeknownst to Lucifer, Jack had just released the parking brake.

As Lucifer stood in front of Jack, he also stood in front of the slowly rolling Impala. The heavy metal frame slowly began to roll, something that Lucifer had just caught out of the corner of his eye. His eyes widened as he held up his hands to brace himself. Jack turned to look away as Cas collided with Lucifer.

Jack heard shouts and his head jerked up from where he had buried it between his arms. He spun to face the Impala as it rolled down the bottom of the incline and straight into the trees of Uncle Sam’s garden. Jack’s heart plummeted at the sight of Cas’ hood crunching up into her windshield.

“Jack!” Jack heard the chorus of his name from his uncles followed by his mother’s high pitched “Lucifer!”

“His name is Lucifer?” Jack swore he heard his uncle - presumably Uncle Dean - scoff.

When the three of them finally made there way up the incline, Jack was shaking where he stood. He looked over to Lucifer’s still breathing form. His mother hovered over Lucifer before crying out.

“He’s dead!” She let out with a sob.

Uncle Sam and Dean looked to one another before crouching over the man. “Not yet.” Uncle Sam said before looking to his brother. Uncle Dean gave a nod.

“Kelly, go call the ambulance.” Uncle Dean ordered as he gestured with his head for Uncle Sam to check on Jack. Kelly made a cry to argue before Uncle Dean shouted over it. “Call them, Kelly!”

“Okay! Okay!” She cried out as she ran down the incline toward the bunker. Jack was partially grateful that he had convinced his uncles to install a phone in the months prior. Though he was certain how he felt about Lucifer getting back up.

Uncle Sam examined him, looking over the clear bruising on his pale and exposed skin. Jack had forgotten he was only wearing his pajamas in all the commotion and his skin was displayed for both of his uncles to see the damage that Lucifer had done, and tried to do.

“You’re safe now.” Uncle Sam said softly. “He can’t hurt you.” He promised.

Jack watched over Uncle Sam’s shoulder where his other uncle crunched Lucifer’s fingers against his boot. Lucifer could do nothing but whimper and writhe in pain. “Yet is the key word.” He promised with a low heat that Jack was certain he wasn’t supposed to hear, but he smiled anyway.

Uncle Sam gave Jack a pat on the shoulder before guiding him back to the house. Although Uncle Dean lingered behind to stay with Lucifer, and Jack doubted it was to tend to him. He wondered, idly, if Lucifer had ever heard the Speech before. Maybe he hadn’t and that was why he seemed like such a terrible person. Jack much preferred the company of his uncles and the snake that he did like and the yelling of teens that warmed a hollow bunker.

 

In the morning, Jack’s mother came back around to the bunker with Lucifer tucked into the passenger seat. His uncles bore holes into Lucifer’s head as the small, blue car approached the porch of the bunker. Jack looked to his uncles with uncertainty, and the weight of his suitcase felt heavy in his arm.

Uncle Sam spared his mother and Lucifer one last look before he turned to face Jack. Leaning on one knee, Uncle Sam looked Jack over again.

“You leave anything upstairs?” He asked gently.

Jack turned to Uncle Dean. Uncle Dean hadn’t turned to face him, but he could tell by his eyebrows that he was doing something akin to a nod. Jack’s eyes trailed to his suitcase.

 

_Uncle Dean had just finished cleaning up after breakfast as Jack had just begun packing away his things. His mother had left last night to take Lucifer to the hospital, but would be back any minute now to pick him up. In truth, Jack didn’t want to leave. He loved it here with his uncles. He loved their small farm and the half empty bunker._

_His heart ached at the thought of Cas the Impala. She sat nestled in the barn until Uncle Dean could get her back up and running again. Pain rang through Jack at the thought of him not being here this time to help._

_Uncle Dean cleared his throat. “You, uh, you’re welcome back any time.” He spoke softly, the first time Jack could recall not a hint of roughness to his voice. “Someone's got to keep an eye or else Sammy’d have us eating corn everyday.” His eyes tease with the mirth around his words._

_Jack nodded and swallowed the forming bitter-sweetness on his tongue. He turned to the picture frame beside his bed. He paused as he reached for it. Sparing Uncle Dean one more glance, Jack took the picture reverently in his hands. He turned and took two steps toward his uncle before holding out the picture._

_“This belongs to you.” Jack’s voice wavered for a moment and perhaps he hadn’t done as well swallowing that emotion as he had thought._

_Uncle Dean shook his head. “Nah,” he pushed the picture frame back toward Jack’s chest, "_ _take him with you.” Uncle Dean took in a deep breath before nodding. “He always wanted to see the world.” Giving a half shrug, Uncle Dean gestured with his chin to Jack’s suitcase. “Take care of him for me.”_

_Jack’s eyes burned as he clutched Castiel close to his heart. His breath hiccuped before he closed the remaining space between them and hugged at his uncle tightly. It was only a moment before Uncle Dean’s arms wrapped around Jack, enclosing him in the space._

_Pulling back slowly, Jack gave a shaky smile to his uncle. “And you have to take care of Cas for me. Get her up and running so you can teach me to drive like you promised.”_

_Uncle Dean nodded and Jack watched as his words caught on his Adam’s apple as it bobbed for air. “Yeah.” He hugged Jack again before kissing the top of his head in a gesture so intimate that Jack wondered if he hadn’t always been here. “Yeah, kid.”_

_At the sound of Uncle Sam’s boots, the two of them had parted. They not-so-discreetly wiped at their eyes. Uncle Sam had the good grace to pretend not to notice. Uncle Sam’s face looked forlorn as he forced a smile._

_“Ready to go?” He asked carefully as he took in Jack’s disheveled appearance and his desperate clutch against Castiel’s picture._

_Jack sometimes forgot how close Uncle Sam must have been to Castiel. Or at least he was understanding enough of his brother’s devotion to Castiel that he too felt so strongly about the man. Jack gently placed Castiel’s picture to rest on top of his belongings before shutting the suitcase._

_Turning to face his uncles with a small smile on his face, he nodded. “I can do it.” He echoed those first words. Uncle Sam recognized them enough to almost start crying right there._

_Uncle Dean nodded before stepping to the side. “Then let’s do this, kid.”_

 

“No.” Jack finally answered Uncle Sam. He turned to his uncles with a single nod. “I have everything.” He promised as he took a step toward his mother’s car.

He could hear his uncles behind him. “How much do you think she’d want for him?

“Dean,” came the gentle reprimand.

“I’m serious, Sammy.” Uncle Dean argued. “You need help in the garden, and I need someone to help me tow parts-”

Uncle Sam sighed and Jack could envision that shoulder pat he seemed so fond of doing. “Dean. It’s time to let him go.”

Jack wished he hadn’t heard that. He wished they had wanted him to leave just as they wanted to when he first got here. He watched his mother step out of the car and walk toward him. He gulped in fresh air and held his chin high as his uncles walked past him to the passenger side where Lucifer sat.

He could seem them lean forward and speak to him, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He only could hear his mother as she spoke to him.

“We’re going to go drop Lucifer off first, and then we’ll go straight home.” She promised him, face distraught. “I never expected him to do anything like that. I promise.” Her eyes watered and Jack could feel his chest tighten.

“It’s okay, mom.” Jack said after a moment. He smiled at her and nodded. “I think we all learned something.”

Nodding, his mother took his suitcase and put it in the car for him. His uncles turned away from Lucifer who now looked to be crying. Jack wondered if his painkillers had worn off, or if Uncle Dean had shown off his proclivity for crunching fingers. He looked between his two uncles.

“So… this is goodbye.” He breathed out gently and almost felt himself sway away with the wind.

Uncle Sam looked to be effected the most visibly to any outsider, but Jack was no outsider. He could speak the Winchester eyebrow. Uncle Dean was just as effected, if not more so. Uncle Sam was the first to speak though.

“For now.” He promised. “You can come back whenever you like.” Uncle Sam laughed. “We have enough corn.”

Jack gave a snort of laughter as he ducked his head. He looked back up to his uncles to see them beaming at him. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Looking to both of his uncles, it was only a moment before Jack rushed at them and held them tightly. The embrace was the closest to home this entire experience had ever been for Jack. It was only when his mother beckoned him with the honk of her car horn that Jack pulled away from his uncles.

“Bye Uncle Sam, Dean.” Jack said to each of them.

Uncle Dean reach up and ruffled at Jack’s hair. It stuck on its ends and they shared another laugh between them. “See ya then.”

Jack gave one last wave before he climbed into the back seat of his mother’s small car. He watched as the bunker became nothing more than a small dot on the horizon as his mother drove further and further away. He could have sworn he saw the teens run after the car, waving goodbye. He regretted not getting to say goodbye to Charlie, Kevin, or Benny. Even his short time knowing Garth had been all the more experience in Lebanon, Kansas.

His mother beamed at him through the rearview mirror. “You’re gonna have so much fun in New York.” She promised as she shook her head. Her fingers danced along the steering wheel. “I hear it snows there!”

Jack reared his head back from the window to look at his mother with a furrowed brow. “New York? I thought we were taking Lucifer back and then heading home.”

“Well,” his mother began with pursed lips, “Lucifer still has some time to recover.” She looked to the completely bandaged man in the passenger seat. At least Jack no longer had to look at his snake like features. “So we’re staying until he’s all better.” His mother explained simply.

Jack watched with wide eyed horror as his mother slipped her hand from the steering wheel to rest comfortingly on Lucifer’s thigh. Jack turned to his door and pressed at the lock until the mechanism released. Once it was unlocked, Jack threw the door open.

“What are you doing?!” He could hear his mother’s panicked yells. “Jack Kline, get back in the car!”

Jack spared his mother one last glance. “I’m a Winchester!” He shouted before jumping out of the car as it moved. He landed on his knee and rolled with the landing. It hurt and the pain blossomed into his entire leg.

Jack tried to run. He hobbled a bit until the adrenaline wore off and the pain hit him full force, causing him to nearly buckle. He heard the car stop and he could pick up the clacking of his mother’s heels as she ran to catch up with him.

“Jack!” His mother called as she rushed to him. She was on him in an instant as she grabbed him by the shoulders to spin him into her embrace. “What were you thinking?!” She cried as she sobbed into his neck. Her dress would surely be ruined from how she knelt on the road. “You scared me!”

Jack pulled away from his mother with a harsh frown. “You know what he did and you’re still going to go with him!”

His mother pet at his hair for a moment, trying to reassure him and soothe her own nerves. “He just has a bit of a temper, that’s all.” She nodded. “He takes care of me.”

“Has he ever hit you?” Jack spat back. He watched his mother flinch at the accusation.

“Jack Kline,” she reprimanded, “he treats me nice.”

Jack shook his head. “That isn’t nice, mom.” He pleaded as his eyes burned along with his throbbing knee. “It isn’t.”

His mother’s own eyes matched in their tears as she shook her head vigorously. “I don’t know what else to do.” She admitted. “He can provided, Jack. I’m just trying to do what’s best.”

Jack pursed his lips as he looked over his mother’s distraught features. “Just this once,” he spoke softly, “do what’s best for me.”

Something shifted in his mother’s eyes. Something that he hadn’t seen since he was seven years old shone through her face as she slowly nodded. She kissed Jack’s forehead before nodding. “Okay.” She whispered as if the words had dragged their way across her heart. “Okay, sweetie.” Promising, Jack’s mother embraced him and for the first time in almost half his life he had felt his mother’s love.

The walk back to the bunker was a harsh one. The ache in his knee, displayed by the rip in his pants, made sure of that. He limped for a moment, but at the sight of the bunker his heart burst into joy. Adrenaline marched its way through his veins as he picked up his speed. He could hear the teens behind him, rapidly firing questions as he moved along.

They kept pace behind him, almost as if he were bringing in some sort of calvary.  Jack held his chin high as he watched his uncles race out of the bunker. They paused just short of the porch before their eyes widened at the sight of him. He stomped his good leg to study himself before he rested his suitcase against his leg.

Leveling them with a serious look, Jack clapped his hands together. “If I’m going to stay here, we’re going to have to go over some rules.”

“Rules?” Uncle Dean parroted. “I don’t know about any-”

“Shut up, Dean.” Uncle Sam said fondly before turning to Jack. “Let’s hear him out. The boy knows what he wants, right?”

Jack nodded with a satisfied smile. “First off, no more dangerous stuff. No more wanting to race Cas on some wild track.” He ticked off his fingers. Before Uncle Dean could interrupt, he continued. “You both have to live until I’m out of college.”

Uncle Sam shared a look with Uncle Dean. “That’s asking a lot, Jack.”

“Oh, I’m not done.” He blinked for a moment before continuing. “You’re going to have to make sure I have supplies for school, and Little League.” Jack grinned. “And the Boy Scouts!”

“Boy Scouts? Little League?” Uncle Sam questioned with faux frustration. “Are you sure we can handle this, Dean?”

Uncle Dean looked to Jack. His eyes seemed to glow at the sight of him, and Jack could feel that same light burst through his body in the same way proclaiming himself as a Winchester had. His smile brightened as Uncle Dean turned to smirk at Uncle Sam.

“Hell yeah, I can do it.”

 

_Jack rubbed the sleepiness out of his eyes as he leaned back in his chair.  He stretched his back to relieve the tightness in his joints that came from leaning over a desk. His artwork was strewn about everywhere in his small office. He smiled as he looked out the window._

_His phone rang, drawing him out of his daydreaming. He picked the phone up without hesitation, almost smiling at the voice that emitted through the other end of the line._

_“Garth?” Jack grinned. “How’s it going?” He leaned back in his chair further as he listened to Garth’s words._

_“I wish I was calling with good news, Jack.” The voice crackled through the other end._

_Jack sprang forward in his seat as his features tightened and his muscles grew taut. “What is it, Garth?”_

_“Well, uh…” Garth began, “it’s your uncles. They passed away last night.” His voice came gently, trying to comfort Jack even over the phone line._

_“Oh.” Jack breathed out as he looked to his drawings. Countless of visions of a younger version of himself and a talking car named Castiel decorated his office. He looked back to his current piece before speaking again. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”_

_“Good. That’s good.” Garth’s voice crackled through the line. “I’m sorry, Jack.”_

_“Yeah.” Jack eventually croaked. “Me too.”_

_Getting tickets to fly out there wasn’t an issue, nor was taking the time off to do it. The quietness of the plane, his memories of Uncle Dean’s fear of flying. At least they went together, he had thought. Jack watched as the miles to home grew closer and closer until he could anxiously get off the plane._

_As he expected when he got there, Cas the Impala was wrecked against the side of the barn. Benny, now donned with a sheriff’s badge, stepped beside Jack as he took the sight in. “I guess they were out burnin’ rubber on ta’ back roads.” Benny explained to Jack who nodded along._

_“Uncle Dean always wanted to take her out on the town.” Jack laughed quietly. Benny shared the smile with him. Jack remembered Uncle Sam and Dean telling him about Benny’s wife being pregnant. “How’s the wife?”_

_Benny smiled warmly at Jack. “Andrea is doin’ good.” He looked over at the wreckage of the Impala before turning back to Jack. “You can stay over with us if ya’d like. I know it’ll be a lot to get everythin’ arrang’d.”_

_Jack smiled kindly at Benny before he nodded gently. “Thank you, Benny.”_

_Giving a familiar Uncle Sam shoulder pat, Benny smiled as brightly as one could in a somber situation. “Anythin’ for family.” He promised._

_Just as Jack was about to respond, a loud whirring erupted through his ears. He looked to the sky, Benny mimicking the movement, as he spotted a helicopter begin to circle around the bunker. It was a good thing they had clear the forest around the bunker during the development of Uncle Sam’s garden, or else the helicopter wouldn’t have had a place to land._

_Benny and Jack stepped back as the helicopter pilot landed with precision on a nice clearing of the bunker’s yard. The helicopter blades slowled before pausing completely in their movements. Benny moved to confront the helicopter’s inhabitants when the door to the helicopter opened._

_A man about Jack’s age stepped out of the helicopter. His posh dressing and pale skin made him look European although the markings on the side of the helicopter looked Arabic. He turned to face the bunker before looking over at Benny and Jack._

_“So this is where they lived.” His accent cemented Jack’s suspicions about the mysterious man’s heritage. The man turned to the helicopter. “Come on out, sweetie.”_

_As summoned, a young girl with flaming red hair that reminded Jack of Charlie’s stepped out of the helicopter. She walked up shyly to her father, who picked her up, before taking in her surroundings. Her father gave her a sharp smile with warm eyes._

_“This is where they lived, Rowena.” Jack heard as he approached them. The man’s eyes widened at Jack and Benny’s approach and he set his daughter down. “My apologies. I was nearby and I heard it on the news. I had to see for myself.”_

_Jack looked on in disbelief as he watched the stranger hold out his hand. Jack took it in his own as he shook it._

_“Oh, where are my manners.” He reprimanded himself before giving Jack a small smile. “I’m Crowley of Crowley Oils.”_

_The name Crowley drew a startled laugh from Jack. This had to be the same Crowley, or at least the same name of Crowley. He wondered if he was here for the sheikh’s money._

_“Crowley.” Jack repeated with awe._

_Crowley nodded enthusiastically as he looked around them. “I had to see if the stories were true. Was a bit curious if one were to put it lightly.” He smiled at Jack. “Did you know them?”_

_Jack chuckled softly as he looked over Crowley. He looked just as Jack had envisioned the sheikh in Uncle Sam’s stories. “They raised me.”_

_Crowley’s eyes widened as he bowed his head. “Oh, the honor is mine.” He said politely. “My grandfather always swore about the ‘Americans who bested me’.” Crowley’s eyes grew reminiscent._

_Jack laughed loudly at that, and Crowley joined him. Jack watched as Crowley’s eyes wandered to the small yacht that rested in five feet of water. Shaking his head, “There was this one traveling salesman.” He answered before Crowley could ask._

_“You mean those men from great grandpa’s stories really lived?” The young Rowena asked her father._

_Snorting a soft laugh, Jack gave a single nod. “Yeah.” He answered gently. “They really lived.”_

_Crowley gave a laugh as he gestured to his helicopter. “Well, I know you must be busy, but I would love to meet up to hear some stories about them. What was it like growing up with them?”_

_Jack thought about the question for a moment. He hadn’t thought too much about it after that first summer. His experiences as he grew and they grew, the speech… Jack shook his head with a half shrug. “Everyday was an adventure.” He answered honestly._

_Nodding as if satisfied with that answer, Crowley took a step back. “Well, as I said, I’ll get out of your hair. But we must meet up again.” Crowley insisted as he moved to his helicopter. “Come on, Rowena.”_

_Rowena lingered for a moment as she looked to Jack. Jack crouched to meet her eye level. “Was he just as brave as great-grandpa said he was?” She inquired gently as she peered up at Jack with large eyes._

_“Even braver.” Jack responded without hesitation. The girl was similar to her father in giving a satisfied nod before moving away. Jack watched them load up into their helicopter and in the same way they came, they left._

_Benny stared wide eyed with his jaw brushing against the floor as he looked to Jack. He gave a low whistle as he righted himself. “They sure had an interesting life.” He shook his head, clearly remembering his own time spent with Uncle Dean._

_“Yeah,” Jack’s voice grew that distance again. “They sure did.”_

**Author's Note:**

> This work is based off the movie Secondhand Lions, and the title was taken from the song of the same name by Don Walser. The story is about a young boy coming of age, and of his uncles (namely the one) finding another purpose to life. So in general it's about getting older, actually. It actually plays into the title of the movie too. It's a gorgeous film (on par to the Princess Bride if not better in my opinion) and I highly recommend the film. I've twisted the story a bit, but kept some of the basic parts. I hope I've done the original story justice. Thank you for taking the time to read this and I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> I encourage interaction and would love any sort of critiques. This story was written over the span of three days and had no beta. All mistakes are my own.


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